


Implausible Deniability

by jasminetea



Category: To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018)
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Accidental Relationship, Alternate Universe - Werecreatures, Canon Character of Color, Caretaking, Chromatic Yuletide, Didn't Know They Were Dating, F/M, Female Character of Color, Fluff, Hair Braiding, Holding Hands, Oblivious Lara Jean Song-Covey, POV Character of Color, POV Female Character, POV Lara Jean Song-Covey, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wolf!Peter, Yuletide, Yuletide 2018, dreamboat boyfriend Peter Kavinsky, lynx!Lara Jean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-14 01:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16903902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasminetea/pseuds/jasminetea
Summary: Lara Jean takes Peter’s hand as an act of kindness. Peter repays her by befriending her. And that’s all it is, really. Friends hold hands, and braid hair, and fall asleep next to each other, and...Or, 5 times Lara Jean insists she and Peter Kavinsky are not dating, and the 1 time she admits they are.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Diaphenia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diaphenia/gifts).



> This is a light-handed take on a werewolf/shapeshifter AU. Although Nalini Singh’s Psy-Changeling series was a large influence, this story doesn’t feature the typical tropes associated with a werewolf/shifter romance. 
> 
> Thanks to karios for the title and TexasDreamer01 for beta’ing.
> 
> Diaphenia, your 101 Fan Fic Kink Kinks post was extremely helpful! I hope you enjoy.

Lara Jean’s first kiss is Peter Kavinsky when she’s 12. Gen drags her to the party, promising it’ll be fun, and when Lara Jean looks to her dad unsure, he dad shoos her out the door.

“Margot won’t be back from debate until later anyway,” he says.

 _Is this how other kids live?_ Lara Jean thinks, sitting on the brown carpet cross-legged, looking at all the other kids. They sneak into houses without adults and break the rules? It wasn’t very romantic.

But still, the thought of a kiss, her first kiss? That’s thrilling.

When the bottle points at Peter, Lara Jean first plays it off because she knows wolves can be particular about this. Their sense of smell making them particular about who they let close enough to kiss.

Peter just shrugs. “Let’s just do it,” he says.

He crawls across the space between them, nudging the glass Cola bottle aside with one palm. He leans in, and he draws close enough she can see all the colors of his eyes, olive and sparkling.

She can feel his breath, and then just as his lips near hers...

She imagines she can feel a connection between them that will span oceans and continents, but to her embarrassment, she’s so flustered, she changes forms.

Looking up at Peter from her new vantage point, much lower to the ground, she lets out a growl of frustration. She’s never going to live this down. By their age, most of her classmates have stopped changing forms when faced with large emotions.

Peter gives a large grin, and even though he’s painted in shades of black and white now, he’s even possibly more beautiful. And then he changes forms as well, now a wolf to her lynx.

He huffs once, and then sniffs the spot behind her jaw where her scent is strongest. He thumps his tail, and then bumps her nose with his.

It might not be a traditional kiss, but it’s still the most intimate she’s been with someone outside of her family, and she will spin numerous daydreams from this moment.

Then their friends’ whooping and laughter, jolts her out of the moment, and she changes back into a girl. Peter follows her, and once he’s back on his side of the circle, situated far away from her, she catches his eye one last time.

She thinks she might see her future in them.

But those dreams of running in the park and holding hands and more kisses are put on hold, because the Kavinsky family breaks apart shortly after. And when Mrs. Kavinsky leaves Portland with her two sons, she takes Lara Jean’s fantasies with her.

* * *

Years later, the whole shifter community knows the Mrs. Kavinsky and her sons are coming home. Mrs. Kavinsky had wanted a fresh start once her husband had left her and the kids for another woman, and a wolf at that. That had been a bridge too far for her.

But here she was, same last name, sans the husband, returning to town so her two sons could get much needed mentorship from the Portland wolf pack.

The first glimpse of Peter Kavinsky is on the first day of class. The other shifters are ribbing someone. It’s the usual posturing, but something feels off to her. She tries to peek between the crowd of bodies, leaning up on tiptoe while holding the straps of her backpack. When that doesn’t work, she changes angles until she finds a gap she can see through.

Lara Jean doesn’t recognize him at first. He’s taller, and his body’s grown broader, baby fat giving way to the easy muscles boys seemed to have. But she catches the sunlight on his eyes, and she knows that color. _Peter Kavinsky_. And although it’s been years since she saw him, she can read the tension in the set of his shoulders, the easy smile not as easy as it should be.

She focuses on the conversation. The boys in their varsity jackets, shifters ranging from bear to deer. “Long time no see Kavinsky! You still wolf, or have you been human too long?” They ask, knowing his mother deliberately moved to a community where there weren’t any shifters.

It’s a dumb question. He was equally both, perfect just as. And no amount of time spent away from the Portland pack could ever take his shifter heritage from him. It reminds her of the way people view her and her sisters for being too much or not enough because she was mixed.

She looks around the crowd again, and they’re just watching Peter be welcomed back into the pack with stupid questions. No one’s standing up for him, and it’s _wrong_.

Pushing through the crowd, she squeezes through the tight spaces between people until she’s next to him. It puts her uncomfortably close to the jocks and the popular girls just on the wings, where Gen is certainly watching, but Lara Jean does her best to shove that knowledge out of her mind.

Wanting to let him know he’s not alone, she takes his hand. She doesn’t like being seen like this, but it’s worse to let him be alone. He startles. he really must be overwhelmed by all the people to have not noticed her approach. He looks down at her, eyes wide.

Giving his hand a small pulse, she says, “You’ll be okay.” And that’s as much attention as she wants today, and then lets his hand go to push her way back out of the crowd.

Later, once she’s home, she tells Kitty about it. Kitty, smart as always, says, “It sounds like he’s touch-starved. That’s _terrible_.”

That stops Lara Jean in her tracks. She thinks of the way she and her sisters pile into bed together when one of them has a bad day. Sometimes, they all shift into their lynx form. And if it’s really bad, and settle into the side of their dad. Even at school, it’s not uncommon to give someone a hug or squeeze their hand when they’re having a tough time. But that comfort was borne of having grown up together, and Peter, Peter had been gone, hadn’t grown with them.

“Lara Jean?” Kitty asks, hands still weaving a braid crown into Lara Jean’s hair.

“Oh, keep going,” she says, but she’s thinking. It _is_ terrible, and no one should have to be alone like that. She thinks of Peter standing alone in that sea of people, like the heroine in the romance books she likes to read standing alone in a field of poppies.

No shifter should be deprived like that, so Lara Jean decides to do something about it.


	2. 1. Hand Holding

The second time Lara Jean holds Peter Kavinsky’s hand is in the hall while he’s searching for his locker. He locks down at the piece of paper in his hand, and then at the long hallway, a dazed expression on his face, looking like a lost puppy.

Once more, she maneuvers through the hallway, and slips her hand into his. Peeking at the number, she starts walking. He doesn’t follow her immediately. But when she looks over her shoulder at him, and tugs his hand, he follows.

When they make it to his locker, right next to Mr. Kapolsky’s chemistry class, she tries to slip away. But he doesn’t let go of her hand. Instead, he squeezes it gently, the grip firm, his hand warm.

“Thanks Lara Jean,” he says.

Her eyes widen in surprise, and she flips her ponytail over her shoulder. “I’m surprised you remember me.” Her sense of fashion had certainly evolved since then. She’s wearing skinny burgundy pants with military boots, along with a grey blouse, a teal scarf tied at her neck. Something she never would’ve worn when she last saw him.

“You’re pretty memorable, Covey.” There’s a small smile on his face, and at the corner of his mouth is a scar that hadn’t been there before. Where did he get it? Did it have to do with the rumored fight that made his mom move back? He certainly looks like he could hold his own in a fight, his soft red T-shirt showing off his broad shoulders and strong forearms.

She’s glued to him at that moment, and when he quirks his eyebrow at her, looking down at their hands, she realizes _she’s_ now the one not letting go, her nails now neat claws trying to knead his hand.

Feeling her face turn bright red, and wishing the floor would just swallow her up, she does the next best thing and flees.

* * *

 

It keeps happening, the hand-holding thing.

Lara Jean wants to avoid embarrassing herself again, and decides to give him small touches, by brushing the back of her hand, or brushing her shoulders against him – small gestures, easy gestures for a cat like her. But despite the idea that cats were sneaky, it’s Peter who always manages to grab her hand.

She doesn’t think anyone notices, but she has the strangest conversation with Josh during lunch in the bleachers.

Mid-way through the celery stick he bummed from her, he asks, “So, are you and Kavinsky secretly dating or something?”

“Huh?”

“You’re awfully cozy with him.”

She chews through her celery with peanut butter quickly. “He’s just alone.”

“Shouldn’t his pack be providing him with that, not you?”

She shrugs, kicking her feet. “I’ll stop once he establishes himself with the pack.”

“Right,” Josh says tersely, his shoulders hunching up in his green canvas jacket. She tells herself it’s because of the chill in the air, and not because he feels tense around her.

“Is something wrong?” she asks.

Now it’s Josh’s turn to shrug. He snags a carrot stick from her Ziplock this time, and looks at the pale sky instead of her. “I thought me and Margot were serious, but then she dumped me. Now you’re getting cozy with Kavinsky. I just... Everything’s changing.”  
  
“I get you and Margot, because Margot’s in college now, or uni, but me? I’m still me.”

Josh keeps crunching on the same carrot stick. “You’re… you. You’ve never been into jocks like Kavinsky, or being that close with shifters other than your sisters. Are you gonna be comfortable if Kavinsky tries to take advantage?”

“Take advantage?”

“He’s a jock and a teenage shifter, and you’re so... innocent.” He makes a gesture at her.

Setting her snack down, she pivots to face him. “Excuse me? I’m still me, but I’m not something to be put on a pedestal. You can say what you meant: Peter Kavinsky is a boy, a jock, and a shifter, so he _must_ be only after sex from me. I know that’s how _boys_ can be, period, whether or not they’re human like you or a shifter! I mean, is it so hard to believe someone who’s popular might want to be friends with me?

“Maybe the break up is messing with you. We should talk about this later, because Josh, I’m still me.”

She leaves in a hurry, cramming her snacks into her backpack, and makes for the main hall. She’s not going to be both angry _and_ cold.

She feels all mixed up, confused. She’d once loved Josh. Had wanted to be the one to hold his hand and whisper secrets to. (Not that she’d ever seen Margot and Josh kiss. Or look at each other with naked want. They probably saved that for the rare occasions she wasn’t brought along on their dates.) Yes, things had changed when they’d begun dating, and she knew it could be awkward to still be friends after Margot had dumped him, but this? Her trying to help _Peter_ is what makes him act strange? She doesn’t get it.

So caught up in her thoughts, and the rhythm of her platforms hitting the tile in the building, she doesn’t notice where she’s going until someone snags her.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey, Covey, are you alright?”

Peter, in a navy hoodie, his gym bag in one hand, and his other on her upper arm.

“I’m fine,” she says quickly.

“Are you sure? It’s not like you to be heading straight for the men’s locker room.”

Taking a look at where she is, she realizes he’s right. At least there’s no one else in the checkered hall.

“I just – do you think I’m innocent?” she blurts. She can’t believe those words escaped her mouth. She’s going to flee again, but Peter drops his heavy looking gym bag, and instead takes her hand in both of his.

“Hey, just take a deep breath, ok?”

She nods, ponytail bouncing. She keeps her eyes glued on his sweatshirt, and watches his chest rise. One breath, two breaths. She can’t smell any products on Peter, typical of a lupine shifter; they were extra sensitive to smells. Just him, the smell of his skin and a bit of sweat.

“There we go,” he smiles. “Your nails are back to normal too.”

She blushes. Had they turned into claws again? How embarrassing.

“I haven’t seen you in forever, so I can’t really say. But Covey, you’re still the same girl I remember from all those years ago.” His nostrils flare. Is he scenting her? “And I think you’re perfect just the way you are. And I’d like to get to know you better.”

He squeezes her hand, and they walk, slower now, to her English class.


	3. 2. Hip Touching

Lara Jean gives up on the plan to stop holding hands, because Peter keeps grabbing _hers_ now. At lunch, between classes, before and after school, whenever they pass each other. It feels strange and odd, but she’d been doing it to him, so maybe this was her internalized sexism as Kitty would say? Or maybe between the two of them, they just get used to it.

These days, neither of them is surprised when the other takes their hand. As a wolf, Peter can probably smell it’s her. And as a cat, it’s hard to surprise her when she isn’t tripping over her own thoughts; she feels people approaching her as a tingle on the back of her neck. Now that she’s familiar with Peter, it’s not the hair-raising kind of unease.

(If she’s honest with herself, his approach reminds her of when someone she likes is coming by. The way as a cat, she’ll preen before being pet. But she was more particular about who petted her than canine shifters were. And she has not granted Peter that level of closeness after reconnecting with him for only two months. Nope.)

Peter is oddly insistent about walking her to her car when school ends. She usually tries to slip her hand away before they get to the parking lot, since she doesn’t want him to watch her drive. Instead, she winds up trying not to panic as she starts the car, and then waits for him to walk away before even attempting to back out. Not to mention, she wants him gone before Kitty walks over from the nearby middle school and starts asking questions Lara Jean didn’t want to ponder.

Today, after opening the car door, Lara Jean’s realizes her choice of clothes make hopping into the SUV difficult. If Peter wasn’t here, she could easily hike one leg up, onto the step with no problem. But since he’s here, she doesn’t want to flash him that much leg, even if it is covered in black tights.

Her internal debate is interrupted when Peter grabs her hips and lifts her up. She feels a bolt of something down her spine and through her stomach. Turning in surprise, she looks down at him, his hands still lightly on her hips.

Staring up at her, Peter looks like he has something to say. She’s afraid of what he’ll say.

After a moment, he says, “Why are you so stressed about driving?”

“What?”

His eyebrows draw together, and she thinks he looks like he could be on the cover of a Western romance, then quickly quashes the thought.

“I can smell how anxious it makes you. So why do you keep doing it? You could just take the bus home.”

“I have to drive Kitty.”

His eyebrows draw even closer to each other, and his eyes soften with concern. “…is your Dad _making_ you do it?”

“Oh my gosh, no! It’s just...” She places her hands over his, planning on gently removing them, but they stay there, despite her best intentions. Looking into his eyes, feeling the comfort of his hands, and wanting to reassure him her dad was cool, she finds her words.

“It’s just that… it’s a lot of responsibility, and I know how to do it, I passed my exam with flying colors and the permit test too! But when I sit down it’s … I know how to do it, I see myself doing it, but in the moment I sit down, put my hands on the wheel, I’m worried about what’ll happen if I fail. Especially when I’m driving someone else.”

He nods solemnly. “It is a big responsibility to drive someone else. But that can be good too, right? It means you’d be a great DD no matter what other people do to pressure you into drinking. You care about other people, but maybe trust you’ll succeed? You still write the best English responses, you’re still smart, and I can’t imagine you’d be bad at this either.”

She blinks at him in surprise. “You’re saying I need to think about what’ll happen if I succeed? Margot always tells me that.”

He smiles. “How is she doing?”

“She’s in college now in Scotland and won’t be back until the end of the semester.”

Realizing she’s twined her fingers in his during their conversation, she quickly lets go, and sits down in the car.

While she fumbles for her keys again, he asks, “Hey, what if I drive you? And you can practice visualizing it in the driver seat. Coach has us do that for lacrosse and it works pretty well.”

“Oh, um, yes? But I couldn’t expect you to pick up Kitty too, so no.”

“I can pick up Kitty too, I can be by your place tomorrow at 7:15?”

“Um, okay, then.”

The smile he rewards her with is beautiful. “Alright, see you bright and early tomorrow Covey!”

* * *

Kitty is ecstatic that Lara Jean found them a personal chauffeur.

“It’s the least he can do as a man, given they’re partially responsible for why we can’t walk alone,” Kitty notes sagely as she buckles her seat belt.

“Well, if you need a ride at night, you can let me know.” And then he gives Kitty his phone number, and Kitty gives him permission to call her Kitty instead of Catherine.

When Peter drops them back home after school, Kitty states, “I like this one, Lara Jean. You should keep him.”

So they settle into a new pattern. Peter picks them up before school and drives them home, easy.

But even at school, there’s a new pattern. Peter starts placing his hand across her hip in hellos, goodbyes. One day, he even has the audacity to spin her around while she looks for Christine in the cafeteria. She tries to frown, but can’t stop her smile from unfurling when she sees his.

He steers her to his lunch table, his hand still on her hip.

And that’s how she starts eating lunch with his friends. At least she knows Kenny, the cat shifter, with a pretty calico coat. He tries to give her ridiculous nicknames, but she likes the way Peter calls her Covey best.

She does miss having lunch out in the bleachers with Christine or Josh though.

* * *

One day, Kenny deviates from the schedule. As she’s about to take her seat at the table next to Peter, Kenny takes her by the elbow. He yells a quick, “I’m gonna borrow her, Peter!” and then navigates her to an empty band room. She looks at Peter over her shoulder, who gives her a shrug that says he doesn’t know what Kenny’s up to either.

Christine is waiting in the band room, the lights flickering over her. Lara Jean wonders when Christine and Kenny started talking to each other.

Kenny sits her down by the shoulders in the scratchy chair.

“So,” Christine says. “Sorry for the espionage, but this seemed to be the only way to grab you, given how much you’ve been hanging around with Peter lately.”

“Oh my gosh, Christine, I’m so sorry. I’m not trying to neglect our friendship! Just because a boy comes around, doesn’t mean I’m going to ditch you, you’ve been my only friend ever since Gen started disliking me.”

“So you admit, there is a boy,” Kenny says.

“What?” Lara Jean replies.

Christine interjects, “What we mean is, are the two of you dating? Because there’s a pool and I wanna make sure I’m gonna win.”

Lara Jean’s brain short-circuits for a moment. “We are not dating!” she insists.

“Girl, he swings you around by the hips. That is dating behavior,” Kenny says.

“No, it isn’t,” Lara Jean replies easily.

“He _swung_ you in circles, by your hips! After having his hands on your ass!”

“It was just his hand in my back pocket!” And okay, Peter had started doing that, and Lara Jean admits, the first time he did that she’d been startled, but it hadn’t felt wrong. It’d felt like sparkling cider and sugar highs with Kitty from eating Margot’s brownies. So she’d let him, and he’d rewarded her with another one of those spins.

“Back pocket, ass, same thing!”

“We’re just friends, guys,” Lara Jean says looking between Kenny and Christine.

“Lara Jean, I’ve been trying to be just friends with you ever since Model UN, but you’ve just ignored me! And then Peter comes along, and you’re finally willing to be friends with someone other than Josh!”

“What?” She remembers the innumerable fantasies she’d spun about her and Kenny becoming the power couple of the UN and creating world peace. “But,” she sputters, “I tried to share my food with you, and be lab partners with you, and you always said no!”

“Because I didn’t want to lead you on! I’m gay. You know that, right?”

“Um, of course.”

He gives her a look that says _right_ , but makes no comment on it. “And the things you were doing are typically dating activities for cat shifters.”

Lara Jean looks away, fiddling with the strap of her backpack. He was a domesticated cat, and she wasn’t. While there was some overlap between the two groups, there was still some differences, and apparently this had been one of them.

“I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable,” she mumbles.

“Don’t sweat it,” Kenny replies. “We just wanted to know, money pools aside, because we were surprised.”

“What is with people asking me that?” Lara Jean exclaims.

Kenny looks to Christine, who takes Lara Jean’s hand.

Christine leans in, the dark eyeliner giving her a serious look. “You know, evolution is natural. It’s just… you’ve kinda avoided it for a long time? And relationships like this tend to bring change.”

“We’re just friends. Can we go back to complimenting each other’s clothing choices like we usually do?”  
  
“Oooh, I wanna join,” Kenny says.

After, when Peter and Lara Jean walk to his car, hand in hand, he asks, “What did Kenny want to talk to you about?”

She turns into his chest, and it takes him a moment to stop his momentum. With her free hand, she grabs his shirt, and hides her face in his chest. “Whoa, he didn’t do anything did he? Do I need to talk to him?”

“No,” she says, peeking up from his shirt. “It was nothing. Can we stay like this for a moment?”

“Uh, sure.” His free arm slowly settles across her waist. “Yeah, we can.”

They stay like that, holding each other by hand and by waist, until she reluctantly lets go, remembering Kitty will be there any moment.


	4. 3. Hair Braiding

Peter’s driving her to Kitty’s play. Her dad will be there late, and both he and Lara Jean agreed she shouldn’t miss a single moment of Kitty’s performance.

As they pull into the parking lot at night, Lara Jean’s still struggling to pull her hair back. In her haste, she’d grabbed an old scrunchy that’d seen better days, and was now lax with use. She couldn’t manage to get it to loop a third time around her ponytail, so it just sagged after she swished it once.

When she makes a frustrated sound, Peter offers, “I could do it for you.”

“Could you?”

She turns in the passenger seat, giving her back to him. His hands pull the scrunchy off her wrist, and then run through her hair to gather it again. She feels a purr building in her chest, and manages to hold it back. Cats were always fans of grooming; it was a common reason they had complicated hairstyles or longer hair.

He pulls her hair, and she lets her head fall back for a moment, before remembering that won’t help him.

He grunts as he too tries to get that third loop done, but he manages.

Kitty’s play is a success, and even though Lara Jean insists Peter doesn’t need to stay, her dad can drive her home, he stays anyway.

He somehow even manages to be in the family photo they take.

* * *

“So, I was thinking,” Peter says, after they’ve dropped Kitty off at her middle school. “What if I did your hair before we got to school? That way you’d be able to get to sleep in more.”

“Do you even know how to braid hair?” She can’t imagine him doing his mom’s hair.

“I’ve been watching Youtube videos after seeing you and Kitty do it, and I was curious. It looked cool. Can I try on you?”

“Okay,” she says hesitantly, convinced it’s going to go horribly, but he had been able to manage a ponytail, so maybe he wasn’t as hopeless as other boys were.

When they pull into the parking lot, Lara Jean takes out her ponytail, and turns in her seat. “Alright, show me what you got, Kavinsky.”

“What? Now?” His voice is definitely nervous. She flips a look at him.

“I thought you said you were watching Youtube videos.”

“Uh, yeah.”

His hands are more hesitant than she’s ever felt them. He merely holds her hair for a moment, then goes for a standard braid. She can feel him thinking how to part the hair. It’s not the best braid, parts of it are tight, others loose, but he does manage.

She checks out his work in the passenger mirror, looking this way and that. She’d have preferred a braided high pony, but this’ll do. It shows off the pretty faux pearl drop earrings she’s found at the farmer’s market.

“Not bad, Kavinsky.”

The shy look on his face is worth it, and she wants to see it again, so she lets him do it again the next morning.

He learns to French braid next, fishtail, a twist and flip bun. Although he’d said she’d get more sleep this way, she convinces Kitty to leave extra early in exchange for time off from braid crowns. Peter’s getting faster, but there are still times he snags and knots her hair, and that requires time to undo gently and correctly. He acquires a brush, a hair tie, a scrunchy to hide the tie, and bobby pins in his car, then a comb when he starts parting her hair into multiple braids.

These mornings, she pulls her hair into an easy pony, knowing Peter will undo it. Margot and Kitty must notice that she comes home with a different hairstyle. She can’t bring herself to knock down the work he does just to avoid sisterly commentary. But she’s grateful they make no comment on it, for once, letting her come to discuss it when she’s ready. (Yes, there’s _something_ to discuss, even if she does her best to ignore it.) Once she’s done flossing and brushing her teeth, she sits in bed and undoes his work, brushing it back out. Sometimes Margot and Kitty will, and she still brushes their hair, but these days she doesn’t want them brushing hers as much.

If she thinks about Peter brushing her hair out before bed, lying on top of her covers (he was fully clothed of course!) telling her to think _what would happen if it was all okay?,_ well, she’s going to bed. A girl’s allowed to dream, right?

* * *

After a particularly stressful cram session for Chem, he gives her a scalp massage in the car the following morning.

Once she’s a puddle in the seat, starting to lean back into him, never mind the console between them, she asks where he learned all these hairstyles.

“Youtube,” he says again.

“Seriously?”

“Serious, Covey.”

She finally opens her eyes, and looks up into his face, her head cradled in his palms. And they’re so close she can make out where acne scars fade and where he has freckles under his tan. Her hands itch with the need to trace constellations between them.

She sits back up. “I don’t want to be late, you better finish,” she says, her voice lower than normal. She can see their classmates starting to mill around their car, parking, leaving their cars, going back to pick up whatever it is they left in their car. Probably a couple or two sneaking an early morning snog (as Margot calls it now) before classes start.

Is that what people think they’re doing with the windows fogged up?

“I have to go. Thanks for the ride!” she blurts, then leaves quickly.

“Wait, Covey!” he calls, but she keeps going.

* * *

Lara Jean pauses in the bathroom, splashing water on her face, hoping it’ll kill her flush sooner. Resting her hands on the sink, she looks at herself in the mirror. Yes, she was blushing, and her she tries to see if her pupils are as blown wide.

She wonders just how she went from trying to help Peter out to thinking of drawing his face down to hers, so close she could drink from his lips.

She touches her wet fingertips to her cheeks, then shakes her head, her hair swinging wide. Peter hadn’t gotten to do it before she’d fled.

Hearing the door open, she quickly shakes her hands out, not wanting to explain why she’s having a staring contest with her reflection.

When she realizes it’s Gen, she’s surprised. Gen never approaches her like this, only making sharp comments in passing ever since middle school. She’s not sure why she and Gen stopped being friends, only that one day she and Gen had stopped exchanging smiles in exchange for barbed comments.

Gen’s arms are crossed over her snug white blouse that show the outline of her bra. “What the hell are you doing Lara Jean?”

Lara Jean opens her mouth, but Gen barrels on. “It was bad enough you stole Peter from me before, but now you’re trying _again_ , when I’m finally...” She makes a noise of frustration.

“Finally what?” Lara Jean asks, genuinely curious if she’ll finally understand why their friendship soured. She has a feeling now, but wants to know for sure.

“Finally more popular, more loved, more stylish than you! People know I’m better than your goody-two-shoes act!”

Well, Lara Jean disagreed about the stylish part, but she wasn’t going to say that. “Is this what this is about? You’re jealous because I kissed Peter in a game of _spin the bottle?”_

“You knew I liked him!” Gen’s still in her personal space, but Lara Jean doesn’t back away, even though her hands are still dripping onto the floor a bit.

“Gen, the whole point of the game was to kiss someone! And I didn’t even like him then?”

“So you _do_ like him now?”

She’d meant, she’d begun to like Peter after spin the bottle, when she began spinning daydreams of her first kiss and where it would go. If it’d be like the romance novels she’d begun reading. The first kiss a promise of first love, a promise of more firsts, a lifetime to find them together and laugh at doing them over and over until they laughed at how they ever felt foolish kissing that first time.

“Gen, it’s none of your business what Peter and I are. You’re not my girlfriend or his. And honestly, it’s a little despicable you let a solid female friendship be ruined by a boy who, statistically speaking, wouldn’t have been in your life as long as I could have been.”

Lara Jean shakes her hands, the water droplets splattering.

Gen steps back.

“ _Ugh, gross,”_ she cries.

Lara Jean uses this as her opportunity to escape.

* * *

After school, it’s just Lara Jean and Peter in his car. Kitty’s attending a post-show debrief with her drama classmates, Dad will pick her up when it’s done.

At lunch, Lara Jean had eaten with Christine, despite Peter trying to catch her. While trying to figure out what had happened with Gen, she’d aggressively pulled her back into a bun. But given the headache Gen’s caused, it feels too tight. She undoes it, shaking it out and pulling on the roots, trying to ease the tension.

Peter’s hands join hers, and Lara Jean lets him scratch her scalp, massaging the roots and easing the tension.

“What’s had you upset? You’ve been wound up all day.”

Lara Jean twists around, forcing Peter to let go of her hair.

“I’m not stopping you from dating anybody am I?”

“What?” Peter laughs.

“I mean, people keep asking me if we’re dating, and I don’t want people to get the wrong idea if you’re interested in seeing anybody else.”

“I’m not,” Peter says both quizzically and a bit hurt. After a moment, he asks, “Do you?”

“No!” she replies, maybe too quickly. She mentally kicks herself.

“Ok,” he says slowly, starting to pull her hair back.

It’s odd, watching his face as he does her hair. She’s never faced someone while they did her hair. And this close, her spine prickles in awareness. His eyebrows draw together as he tries to make it even without a brush, and his gaze drops to hers.

(She could lean forward here. It’d be easy, just lean in a little bit. She could, but she doesn’t.)

When Peter’s done, she looks in the mirror and notices he put a scrunchy over the hairband. It’s a pretty navy with a smattering of white stars that make it look like the night sky.

“Pretty,” she says, admiring the way it sparkles when she turns her head. “This isn’t mine. Where did you find it?” She’d supplied the hairbands and ties, enough that there was a section of his side console full of them now.

“I bought it,” he says, “I thought you’d like it.”

“I love it,” she says, smiling. “It’s my new favorite scrunchy.”

He twists the end of her ponytail around his fingers. “My favorite style is when you wear it down. I can smell it better.”

She ignores his comment about scenting her, because wolves and scenting is not something she wants to think about. “Then why have you spent all this time learning to do it?”

“Because I wanted to be close to you, Covey,” he says like it should’ve been blindingly obvious.

(Wolves scent close family and friends, lovers, _girlfriends_.)

Gen’s words echo in her mind, _Do you like him now?_

And suddenly, Lara Jean thinks, _Oh no_.


	5. 4. Caregiving

Lara Jean doesn’t know what to do with the fact she contemplated kissing Peter. She’d only meant to be kind to him! How had she wound up spinning real life daydreams about him _again_? The day after, Lara Jean is in such a spell trying to decide whether to do her hair herself, let her sisters do it, or let Peter do it, that she walks out the door not having it done at all.

As Peter’s car pulls up to their house, Lara Jean is considering dashing back into the house to grab a hair tie. She taps her foot anxiously.

“Why are you so weird?” Kitty says, pushing her glasses up by the corner.

“What if Peter thinks I left my hair down for him?”

Kitty gives her a look that says _duh._ “Isn’t that what you’ve _been_ doing?”

Lara Jean’s eyes go wide in understanding, and Kitty shakes her head, hopping into the backseat of Peter’s car.

When they drop Kitty off at school, Kitty shoots Lara Jean a look that says, _don’t be dumb_. And Lara Jean wonders how to manage that.

She and Peter take their standard pre-school positions, Lara Jean wondering just how to act normal around Peter, but this time, he doesn’t do anything to her hair at all, just finger combs it, then rubs her scalp with fingertips, then runs his nails across it. Did Youtube cover the finer points of scalp massage along with hair-styling?

Again, Lara Jean feels a purr rising out of her. She hiccups, the purr escaping with it. Embarrassed, she puts a hand over her mouth. When she looks at Peter, she sees him holding his gut, trying not to laugh.

He wipes a tear from his eye. His grin is infectious, she can’t help that her mouth shapes into one too, despite how awkward she feels. Purring was something people always asked feline shifters to do, like some kind of party trick, and having it happen out in public felt like having her nipples show when she was cold.

“I’m glad to know I have magic hands,” he teases. “Seriously, though, I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to.”

And something eases in her chest then, something she didn’t know she held onto releases.

She lets her quiet rumble fill the car again. “Then, you better keep petting me,” she says.

“You only have to ask Covey,” he smiles, full on teeth now. He tousles her hair, then smooths it out again.

When they leave the car, she runs a hand against the curls at the base of his neck, and he leans back into her hand.

It’s different from touching her sisters, and she thinks she understands why Peter loves touching her hair so much.

* * *

They don’t have the opportunity to settle into a new pattern, because Lara Jean catches the flu that’s been going around. Probably from Christine, who’d insisted on swiping a sip of her Yakult.

Lara Jean doesn’t enjoy being home sick. She likes when her sisters, and on the rare occasion her dad, would sleep nearby in lynx form. The warmth feels good. Margot liked to fall asleep on her feet, and Kitty would often curl up on her lap as she read a book.

It’s a little lonely being in the house by herself. She blows her nose again and throws the crumpled mess on the floor near the wastebasket, then slumps back into bed, letting sleep take her.

When she wakes up, she’s thirsty, and makes her way downstairs for orange juice. She stumbles upon the strangest scene that makes her wonder if this is a fever dream.

Her dad, and Peter, in the kitchen, talking to each other. Dressed like normal people, while she’s in fleecy pajamas printed with snowflakes.

“Peter Kavinksy!” Her dad says warmly, taking Peter’s hand. “Look at you, all grown up! I always did hope you and your family were doing well.”

“Thanks Dr. Covey. It’s nice to be back in town. More wolves here than where we were, and we’re hoping my brother will have more playmates this way.”

“And look who’s finally awake!” her dad exclaims. “Lara Jean, you’re just in time for Peter’s visit, I’ll get out of your way...”

After he leaves, Peter and her stare at each other, her hand still lingering on the banister.

“Uh, I brought food and notes from Chem,” he says, holding up a large paper bag from the counter.

She goes into the kitchen to get her orange juice, not to smell whatever he brought. She plans on turning his food away. But when she opens the fridge for the juice, and sees the tough bulgogi Dad tried to make, she decides she better take Peter’s food after all.

Standing next to him at the kitchen island, she asks, “What did you bring?” She opens the bag up and peers inside.

“Soup, and fresh-squeezed juice from the Whole Foods.” He takes the large Tupperware bowl out, along with a loaf of bread, some ginger orange jam, and a jug of cranberry orange juice. She goes to grab cups and plates, and he opens up the soup container.

The smell is wonderful from what she can tell past her congestion. It smells warm, hearty, and salty. As he ladles the soup out, she sees it has chunks of meat and lots of vegetables in the broth.

She reaches into the bag, wondering what the other glass jar is.

“Oh, no, not that one! That’s for me.”

She raises her eyebrow.

“Ginger kombucha, it’s good for you. It might help you feel better. Do you wanna try some?”

She nods, he pours a little into her cup, she tries it, makes a face, and he quickly pours her the cranberry orange juice.

They settle onto the couch, the bowls big enough she’s not worried about them spilling. She declines the bread, but he insists she keep it in case she gets hungry later. He’d made enough soup for her to have leftovers after all. He makes small talk about what happened today at school, how Christine's still egging Gen, and Gen was so insistent on following him that he’d had to throw Christine at her. Lara Jean laughs at that.

The soup is delicious, tender rib meat, crispy skin, rice, carrots. When she nears the bottom she begins drinking the broth straight from the bowl. Then she scoops up the last of the celery with her spoon, savoring the last bite.

When she looks over at Peter, he’s stopped talking, and is just staring at her.

“I know I don’t look my best, but do I have a booger somewhere?”

“No,” he says quickly. He grabs her dishes, and she insists he just leave it in the sink, he’d done enough as it was.

“Let me give you the notes?”

“Yeah, sure, let me go get my binder first.”

After retrieving it from her room, they settle back on the sofa. She’s sitting closer to him than she’s comfortable with, but he’s probably warm and she’s cold.

She copies the notes, from the binder open on his lap to the one on hers. The formulas don’t make much sense to her, but she tells him she’ll look at them again, once the fever isn’t cooking her brain.

“You look pretty tired, let’s get you back to bed.”

“No,” she moans, “too far away. I can just nap here.”

“I could carry you?”

“No, I’m too heavy!”

He gives her a look that says he doubts that, but instead says, “If you shift you’d be smaller, and I could carry you.”

She gives him a startled look. “I didn’t think you’d remember I was a lynx.” When people thought of big cats, they thought of, well, lions and panthers, not lynx.

“You were cute, with the tufted ears.” He makes a motion around his own ears.

She blushes.

“I was surprised,” he continues, “when everyone said you don’t shift very much publicly anymore, you used to love doing that on the playground when we were kids.”

What she says next, she chalks up to the fever addling her brain. It’s not because Peter Kavinsky is someone she feels comfortable sharing this with. “Between Margot, Kitty, and I, I look the most like Mom. And I can see that it makes Dad sad. So I try not to remind him too much.”

“Isn’t that kinda against nature for cat shifters though? I thought you guys were close as a family unit.”

“We are, I just don’t with Dad very often. Just with Margot and Kitty.”

“And Margot’s not here, and Kitty’s on the debate team now. You know, you could shift to take your nap, and I’ll watch over you.”

She blinks slowly at him, surprised he was being considerate of her own needs as a shifter.

His expression is pensive in a way she doesn’t see at school. Then he says, “There are days I hate my dad, but he’s also why I’m a shifter, and I love that about myself. It’s gotta be hard when you have to balance both of those things, you loving being a lynx even though it makes your dad sad.” Then he quickly adds, “Uh, not that it’s the same thing, since my dad is alive, and uhhh...”

She giggles a little, although it sounds like a gurgle given her congestion. “It’s okay, it makes sense. And… I don’t talk about Mom much. It feels nice to talk about her.”

“You still miss her, huh.”

“Yeah,” she admits, “and you still love your dad.”

“Yeah,” he echoes. And here’s a side of Peter Kavinsky the world doesn’t see, his expression beautifully vulnerable.

So Lara Jean lets herself be vulnerable too, letting herself change before she loses her nerve. She feels her center of gravity become lower, the strength of her legs, the stealth of her paws. She curls up next to Peter’s thigh.

He tentatively places a palm on her head. She flicks her ears, reflexively. He pulls away, but she butts her head against his palm.

“Okay, okay.” He smells delighted and sweet, and he scratches her head. This time she lets herself purr, and then she sleeps.

* * *

When she wakes up, Peter is gone, and Kitty’s face is looking down at her.

“You know,” Kitty says with a sly look on her face. “Wolves bring food to their significant others.”

She changes back into her girl shape, tugging the hem of her pajamas. She goes into the kitchen, planning to put the leftovers in the fridge, but Peter’s already done that.

Kitty follows her.

“He’s just being friendly,” Lara Jean sniffles.

“Well… I might’ve hinted to him, grooming is a common bonding activity for felines,” Kitty shyly admits.

Lara Jean’s head whips around so fast, Kitty is worried she’s in trouble.

“I didn’t mean anything by it!” Kitty adds hastily.

“Oh, I think you did.”

“It’s just that you used to like him, and it looked like he liked you too, so what was the harm in giving a little push?”

“That was years ago Kitty! We’re totally different people now.”

“Which is why you could totally make it work this time!”

Lara Jean contemplates how long it’d take for her to dash back into the living room, grab an armful of pillows, and fling them at Kitty.

“Don’t you want a boyfriend?” Kitty wheedles.

“Kitty, I… I like Peter, and I don’t want to mess anything up, okay?”

“If you say so Lara Jean.”

* * *

Lara Jean goes back to school. If she wears her hair down more often, it’s because it’s a low-maintenance style. And if Peter views it as an invitation to brush it, or tie it back, well, then, that’s a happy accident.


	6. 5. Snuggling

Peter starts coming over to help her catch up on the week she was sick. Then her dad asks him to stay for dinner, and Kitty asks him to stay for Golden Girls.

“I don’t want your mom to think we’re trying to adopt you,” Dad says when Kitty asks him to stay the third time.

Peter shrugs. “I can call her. She’ll be fine with it. The whole point of us moving back was to have more shifter friends.”

Lara Jean wonders what it must’ve been like to live somewhere where they didn’t understand sometimes you had to be just a little animal. Be touched, go running in the woods, play fight.

It had worked out in her favor though. Despite the way her taking his hand has spiraled out of her control, she doesn’t regret doing it.

(Well, she does a little, when Peter relates his mom has issued her a standing invitation to dinner.)

The homework excuse doesn’t last for very long though. Lara Jean catches up quickly, but Peter still comes over for dinner or movie night with or without Kitty’s presence.

This Friday, Kitty’s at a sleepover. So it’s just Lara Jean, Peter, and a double feature of _Roman Holiday_ and _Ocean’s 8_ (the newer one, because _Ocean’s 13_ was coming out and he thought Kitty would like it) – the follow up to their previous double feature.

After Dad yells, “Don’t forget to sleep!” they argue over whether Smitty should’ve forsaken her life as a princess. (Peter was Team Joe and Lara Jean was Team Stay a Princess, because the theme of sacrifice was what made the romance so _good.)_

And somehow Peter convinces her she needs a braid crown, no matter that it’s past 9pm already. “C’mon Covey,” he pleads, hands together, “This is what I’ve been working toward. The Super Bowl of hair braiding.”

“Seriously?” she quirks a brow at him. “This has been your plan all along?”

“I even had Kitty give me tips!”

Her gaze takes on a pensive quality. “Why make the crown a goal?”

“Because you’re a queen to me?”

Rolling her eyes, she misses the openness on his face.

She goes to get the needed supplies and then hands him her light purple brush.

“Alright,” she concedes. “Do your worst.”

“I hope it’s my best.”

He takes a swig of his kombucha, screws the cap back on, then sets to work.

There’s something that feels different about this. Her neck bare to him, in her own home, just them, no crowds milling around them.

“You do a lot of things for me,” she says into the quiet. “Am I taking advantage of you?”

“You’ve been reading too many of those romance novels you try to hide. My virtue is intact, I assure you. No shotgun weddings to preserve my honor.” She makes a noise at that, and he adds, “I was curious what you were reading, so I might’ve looked at TV Tropes, and then checked out _The New York Times_ recommendations.”

“But that’s what I mean,” she says, as his hands continue parting, pulling, weaving. “You drive me and Kitty to school, you do my hair 5 days a week, you bring me food when I’m sick. I let you touch me when I shift.” She says the last part more to herself, and she can feel the words slipping out her mouth and going places she’s not ready to go. “And what do I do for you? I’m educating you on classic romances and getting you to read them too, apparently,”

Peter’s hands keep going. He hums, then tells her, “You were kind when I needed it. That first day of school was… overwhelming. All the new scents at once. But they also weren’t new? Like I recognized a lot of them, was trying to place them, remember how they were the same but different from what I remembered. And before, I’d just have to duck into an empty room until I could sort all of it out, because there were so few shifters where we moved.

“But you grabbed my hand, and I could focus on that. And when I focused on how you smelled, how it’d changed but was still the same, the other scents settled into place too. Not to mention you saved me from the humiliation of being turned down at spin the bottle all those years ago,” he teases.

Even with the joke, Lara Jean’s eyes are wide. She both wants to see his face and is scared of what she’ll see there. Instead, she stares resolutely at the dark kitchen. Peter Kavinsky had just told her he was using her as his baseline for his wolf senses, something only close family did, and Lara Jean did not want to be told she was a sister. But did she want to be… his girlfriend instead?

When he announces he’s done with the crown, he takes a photo to show what it looks like to her. His phone is a different model from hers, and when she goes to zoom in, she accidentally locks it.

“Well, how does it look?” Peter asks.

His phone background is from Kitty’s play. The one photo they’d cajoled him into joining instead of taking, a parent in the audience happy to take it.

His chin comes to rest on her shoulder, and he makes a noise of distress seeing the background. He pulls away. “Um, well, the whole reason Mom moved us back here was to be around more shifters. And I think she expected me to fall in with the local wolf pack, but I kinda like you and your family.”

Setting the phone down, she turns around on the couch to face him, tucking her legs under her. She takes his hands, and he lets her look at them. These palms that hold lacrosse sticks and throw paper airplanes to his friends, hold her hair, her hips, her hand, her.

If she stares at the lines and strength write in his fingers, will she see her future there?

Peter keeps talking, nervously trying to fill the void, “Shit, I mean...”

“I get it,” Lara Jean says quietly. “It was lonely after Mom died, and I stopped playing with the other feline shifters as much when they’d go into the woods.”

“Why?”

“Because it didn’t feel right. So I get it, it’s… nice… finding people you feel safe with.”

“I don’t get it,” Peter replies. “I mean I get being lonely, but why not go and be with other shifters? You weren’t in the middle of nowhere like we were.”

She drops her eyes back to his hands, where her fingers squeeze his fingertips, moving from one to the other, like he was a cat whose claws she was trying to express.

“When you’re in your other form, you feel things differently, right?”

“Yeah, it’s still me, just...”

“...more. I want more when I’m in that shape. It’s harder to ignore how much I miss Mom, how nervous I was Margot was going to college, how much I wanted...” she thinks of all the love letters she’s written, unsent, the number of romance novels lining her bookshelf. “...if I want something that much, it just means it’s easier to be hurt.”

“ _Oh_.”

“Yeah,” she says softly. Lifting her eyes back to him, she looks at his temples because of how nervous she is. “Is it okay if I just rest here for a little bit as the cat and you pet me?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Although...” he pauses for a moment, like he’s unsure of her reception to what he’s thinking of. “Can I shift too?”

She thinks of the way she and her sisters would pile onto bed, the pillows and blankets thrown high. Margot’s gone though, and without her it doesn’t feel quite right, Kitty still small as a lynx snuggling against her. No one but the pillows to cradle her back.

“Alright.”

She slides off the couch, and lets her body reshape, lets the world reform in a way that makes sense in a different way. The way her paws move quietly across the carpet, the scent of boyPeterhumanyoung changing to malePeterwolfpup. The way she feels him jump onto the carpet and shake his coat.

He yips and parades around her in a circle, and she licks a paw while she waits for him to settle down a little. When he circles round, she taps his nose.

He licks her paw, and she bumps the top of his head against his neck. She was small for a big cat, and although he was still young, he already was larger than her.

He plops onto the floor, tail thumping. She settles against his belly, curling into a circle there. He’s warm, and then he lets his body try and follow hers too. It’s not the snug closeness as it is with Margot, but there’s something to be said for letting yourself rest against a predator larger than you, knowing you’re safe, and they’re no threat to you.

She kneads the carpet, not his belly the way she wants to. She’s not sure how well that’ll go with him, or rather, she’s afraid he’ll let her and then she’ll know. She won’t be able to pretend that...

He licks her from the top of her spine to her head, as if he’s saying, _You’re thinking too hard, Covey._

She does her best to not think about all the what-ifs by focusing on right now. The smell of Peter, the feel of the dense carpet and the feel of Peter’s coarse fur. The lights are already dim, just the light over the sink in the kitchen. Maybe if she focuses hard enough, she’ll hear his heartbeat and she can count that instead of sleep.

As her thoughts begin to slow, it’s easy to let the world shrink to just the two of them. Even easier to let her eyes drift shut, and let the rise and fall of his breathe lull her to sleep.

* * *

Saturday morning, Lara Jean wakes up spooning Peter Kavinsky. Her hips are pressed against his butt (it’s soft! Boys have soft butts too?), her legs against his, one set of sock-covered toes wedged between his calves.

She can see that his shirt is navy, a hint she’s no longer a cat. She flexes her fingers, just to be sure, and yes, there it is right over his stomach! And his shirt had ridden up so that she was touching his skin!

Recoiling, she pulls away and takes the baby blue blanket with her (that hadn’t been there! who’d put it there?!). Without the blanket or her body heat, Peter curls further in on himself.

Extricating herself from the blanket, she lays it back over Peter, who settles back into sleep. He does looks pretty and peaceful there, his eyelashes all pretty in the way that came easily to boys.

Slowly getting up, she sees her dad in the dining room, sipping his coffee and reading the news on his tablet. She might as well get this over with.

She sits down across from him.

“Don’t worry,” Dad says quietly. “I called Peter’s mom and let her know he was staying the night on the couch, under my very watchful gaze. And I had supplied a box of condoms in case I fell asleep on the job.”

Lara Jean gapes, head whipping to see there is indeed a box of unopened condoms on the ottoman. She quickly runs back and snatches it before Peter can see it when he wakes up.

“ _Dad,”_ she hisses, holding the box in her lap.

“Better to be prepared! Lack of preparedness is exactly how unplanned pregnancies occur, and I am not ready to be a grandpa yet,” he replies cheerfully.

It’s times like this she sees how much Kitty takes after their dad. She also wonders if he does it so that the embarrassment is its own form of birth control.

“Well, if you don’t want to hear it from me, maybe you’ll take it from your sister.” He nods his head to the stairs, and when Lara Jean looks, there’s Margot coming down.

“She came back early on a red-eye as a surprise for you and Kitty,” he continues.

Lara Jean forgets her embarrassment, and all thoughts of keeping Peter asleep during her mortification evaporate. She runs up to Margot, and hugs her tightly.

“I missed you too, Lara Jean,” Margot says.

When they finally let each other go, Margot takes a look at her. “Who did the crown?” she says, “Kitty wasn’t here last night.”

“That was me.” Lara Jean turns around, and there Peter is, one hand raised, the blanket folded in the other. The squee she emitted must’ve woken him up, she realizes sheepishly.

Dad invites him to stay. But Peter says he should go home and leaves, looking at Lara Jean one last time, lingering before he does.

Kitty’s feet patters down the stairs next. “ _Margot?”_ she yells.

* * *

After breakfast – Lara Jean had wondered why her dad had put so much French toast to soak in the fridge last night – and hearing about what Scotland is like, Dad tugs Kitty away, saying they should give Lara Jean and Margot some catch up time, and they’ll be plenty of time for Kitty and Margot to catch up too.

As they set the last of the damp dishes into the dishwasher, Margot leans down to turn it on, her messy braid hanging over her shoulder. She says, “So what’s this I hear about a boy?” The slight smile on her face lets Lara Jean know she’s teasing, and there’re no hard feelings for not telling her sooner.

“Oh no, please don’t tell me you saw too.” Lara Jean puts her head in her hands. Although she hopes Margot was so tired that she went straight to bed without peaking in on her sisters, she knows Margot must’ve seen them.

Margot herds her up into her room, as they pass the family room where she and Peter had spent the night (!) she hears Kitty and Dad laughing as they play Exploding Kittens.

As they step into Lara Jean’s bedroom, Margot notes she’s kept it pretty clean. There’s only a small pile of clothes between the closet and the bed.

“It’s still the same,” Margot notes wistfully. It is, same fairy lights strung around, same bookcase full of books – there are some new ones though, like the Harlequin Teen anthologies – posters of bands and affirmations.

“Why would I have changed it?”

“I’ve been gone for three whole months and two weeks, and you haven’t talked about any new friends who might stay over. Even Christine doesn’t stay very often.”

That was because Christine liked to go to raves that ended after the sun rose.

She flops onto the bed, covering her eyes with her forearm. “I didn’t think it was worth telling.”

Margot gently sits next to her on the aqua comforter. “But it was worth hiding?”

Lara Jean lowers her arm enough to see the concerned look on Margot’s face. She rolls over until she’s pressed against Margot in a half-circle, her nose pressing into her back, and her knees bumping against Margot’s.

“I only meant to be nice.”

“Why don’t you tell me about it?”

So she does, Margot coaxing her with her hand petting her back. How she’d only meant to be nice, but then Peter was nice in turn, and it’d been _nice_ too.

“What about a word other than nice?” Margot interjects, with a raised eyebrow. By this point, Lara Jean has scooted back in front of Margot.

“He was kind, and he gave me attention. He _saw_ me. He likes my fashion, he likes my hair, and my hand in his, and I liked the way he treated me, how comfortable I feel around him as a cat, that I could talk about Mom to him. I liked it a lot.”

“Sounds like you like him a lot more than _like_ if you’re letting him that close to you _.”_

She sits up, her hands touching her hair, still in its crown.

“Margot,” she breathes, like the revelation of seeing your love waiting for you all this time if only you looked.

“What good is love if you don’t share it with the people you feel it for?” Margot continues.

Lara Jean takes it back. It’s like the heroine realizing what she wants, that she has the power to make her dreams come true, so she finally reaches for the man she’ll marry. And as she finally grasps him, the sun rises behind them in all its glory as they kiss.

“ _Oh my God_ , I _do_ like Peter Kavinsky.”

Margot’s face spills into a grin, and it’s like she’s never been gone at all. “I’m glad you still need me,” she says, and kisses the top of her hairline. Her hands hesitate, like they want to tousle her hair.

“Go ahead.” Lara Jean takes her hands and places it on her head. “He can just braid it again.”

And Margot digs her fingers into her scalp, laughing.

“You picked a good one, sis.”

* * *

“Don’t forget what I said, don’t keep this kind of thing to yourself!” Margot says, leaving her room.

Lara Jean falls back onto the bed, stares at the ceiling for a moment. The more she thinks about it, it’s like all the thoughts she’s been holding tightly in her grasp are flying loose. Her daydreams of holding hands with a future boyfriend – okay, fine, she already does that with Peter – watching movies together over popcorn from the bag with fake butter – wait, they’d done that one too. What hadn’t they done?

(First kiss, first make out, first fogging up the car windows on Friday night – okay, enough of that.)

It was just the fairy tale dreams she hadn’t managed yet, rushing into each other’s arms after a long absence, feeling the breath of destiny in the kiss of their palms.

She could make those happen, though, plan them even. And those were grand moments in novels, but her life doesn’t have to be like a romance, she certainly didn’t want the drama and heartbreak involved there.

But maybe, real life is better, after all. She flexes her fingers, looking at the hand that started it all. Remembers how right it feels when Peter holds it in his, how so used to him she’s gotten, and she wants to keep this feeling.

Thinking of what Margot says, she licks her lips nervously and grabs her phone.

Kitty must’ve changed the background of it this morning, because there’s her and Peter. There’s a smile on Peter’s face and Lara Jean’s face is calm with sleep. Her hand is fisted in his shirt. She has to admit they look good together. And the feeling – the way she feels, like this is right, like she wants this, she does want this. She does want to keep it.

She dials his number before she loses her courage.

“Can we talk?”


	7. +1 Kissing

Peter isn’t able to swing by her house until tomorrow afternoon (“I’m officially being introduced to the wolf pack here, but I’d rather be with you,” he said).

Lara Jean would spend the entire time until their meeting writing drafts of the same letter, or agonizing over what she’ll say, and what’ll happen, but Kitty and Margot successfully keep her occupied.

She really has the best sisters in the world. They ply her with pancakes, brownie making, and a marathon of the _Jane the Virgin_ episodes Margot had missed. Margot would have been fine not watching them, but Kitty and Lara Jean insisted, and Margot was always happy to watch TV with them. Well, anything except _The Bachelorette_. Dad had joined in as well, although he always was alarmed by the flagrant failure in ethics _Jane the Virgin_ revolved around. They got him to stop discussing it by sending him to make more popcorn.

And by bedtime, Lara Jean’s so tired, her brain only has the ability to do a cursory whirl of _ohmygod_ before she falls asleep.

* * *

Sunday morning, Lara Jean opens her eyes. She shoves aside the _pleasedon’tmakemetalkaboutmyfeelings_ panic and instead says, “Today will be a good day,” her voice only half-there with sleep.

There’s more catch-up time with Margot, and when she and Kitty have their sisterly alone time (Kitty wants to know what girls do in Scotland. Do they drink alcohol there? What’s feminism like there? Are they helping with the Irish referendum on abortion?), Lara Jean decides to do some cleaning.

Maybe if she can organize her room, she can organize her thoughts and words too. It feels less daunting if she’s doing something with her body as she works through the sentences.

Vacuuming, wiping the window, vacuuming even under her bed, organizing her closet by type and then color and pattern. She even goes through her bookshelf to make sure they’re ordered by her favorites, then by author, even though she knows her bookshelf is the one thing she always keeps in order.

Her phone buzzes, Peter’s ringtone. A series of bird chirps that was technically supposed to be an alarm tone, but she’d chosen it because seeing him in the morning was as welcome as listening to birdsong.

Quickly shoving the books together with the bookend, she throws herself across her bed, reaching for the phone, the mattress leaving her airborne for a moment. Her body bounces back onto the comforter, but it feels like her head is still going up.

 _I’m here_.

The doorbell rings, quickly followed by Dad yelling that it’s Peter for her.

Lara Jean takes one last look at her outfit before leaving her room: black combat boots (because love was a battlefield), plaid skirt, a jumper Margot brought back for her, and a velvet collar studded with pearls (Kitty had given it to her, saying it was very judicial).

Margot’s very clearly trying to occupy a nosy Kitty, and her Dad still has the door open, unconcerned with the cold breeze coming into the house.

“Hi,” she says stepping out, closing the door behind her.

Peter raises his hand in greeting, wearing his lacrosse sweatshirt. “Hey, Covey,” he replies. “What’s up?”

Faced with the actual moment, of course, everything she wanted to say flies out her brain.

So what she says is, “I ruined your braid crown, after all that work you did, I’m sorry, okay I apologized, please go.”

Placing her palms on his shoulders, she lightly pushes.

“Did you invite me over just to apologize for that?” His face is bemused. Goodness, how had she missed it? The way he looked like he was in on a secret, when the secret was that he _liked_ her.

He lays his hands over hers, and gently lowers them. He doesn’t let them go. She looks down at them, the color of their skin against each other, the way his finger joints feel between hers. He must be trying to keep her warm, is all. But if she’s going to be brave, maybe he’s doing it because he _likes_ holding her hand, likes her back. Now, if only she could meet his gaze again...

While she’s spinning the wooly thoughts in her head into golden words again, Peter says, “How about I tell you about how the pack intro went?”

She nods. He tells her about how he’d had to sniff and be sniffed by the wolf pack, and they’d commented on how much he’d grown, how glad they were to see him back. “But you know,” he says, “they um, said they could tell I’d already bonded with another pack.” He shifts his weight, looking hesitant.

She lifts her eyes at that. “And? What did they mean by that?”

Now, Peter’s the one who looks away, at the pale blue sky. “I smelled like your family, they said. They could tell how much time I was spending with you.” He gives a sheepish grin, “They were even joking you must’ve been marking me a lot. But I told them it wasn’t like that. I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I was sloppy and didn’t wash my hands after touching your hair and scalp. I know cats have their scent strongest there, like we do at our necks.”

She doesn’t like seeing him embarrassed, worried she’s going to turn him down.

“Come running with me, Peter Kavinsky.”

“What?”

“I’m going to initiate into the Song-Covey pard.”

She changes, in public, for the first time in years, looking over her haunch to see if he’ll follow. He smiles, and then he does.

And they run through their neighborhood, past the smell of tame dogs and cats, into the playground, and back ‘round the block. Chasing each other’s tail, climbing sidewalks and boulders.

When Lara Jean is certain her family won’t be watching from the windows, she finally stops in front of her house and changes back. Peter runs up to her. He’s a beautiful wolf, russet coat, amber eyes, like he could watch babies and be a companion. He sits at her feet, panting, tongue lolling. She grabs his ruff, not realizing how intimate it is until she’s mid-scratch. She pauses, but he nuzzles into her.

“Change back, Peter, I have something to tell you.”

He makes the change, body reshaping into the boy she’s become so familiar with. He cards his hand through his brown curls.

Maybe she is a little feline after all, she can tell by his face she’s caught him at the moment. She’s feeling a little wild, like wanting him will be alright if only she takes the plunge.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you, and this doesn’t match any of the letters or speeches I prepared, but Peter Kavinsky, I _like_ you. We hang out so much other people can smell it on us, I like that I feel just a little wild with you, bolder, braver. So, what if it was like that?”

Even though her language is muddled to her, Peter still gets it. His eyes widen, and his smile, oh. Like she just gave him the best Christmas present or that he’s seeing the sunrise after a long week of rain clouds.

Laughing, he grabs her by her hips, lifts, and spins her around once. The colors of her neighborhood, the houses, and trees, and yards and cars whirring by, but his face a sure thing, like a lighthouse across the sea. She can’t help but giggle too.

When he sets her down, she bumps her forehead against his. His hair tickling her, they stare at each other, still riding out the bubbles of laughter and joy. Goodness, he’s beautiful like this.

Eventually, she rubs her cheek against his neck. He makes a surprised noise of approval.

“Do you think I’ll smell like a wolf now?” she says drawing back.

“I dunno,” he replies. “I think we better make sure.”

She nods. “Okay.” And reaching up on tip-toe, she draws his face down towards her in a kiss.

When they separate, she sees her family crowding into the door spying on them.

“Please tell me you’re not kissing him because _friendship_ ,” Kitty says.

Margot shushes her, smiling.

And her dad says, “Is this your way of officially announcing you’re dating?”

“ _Finally_ ,” Kitty says.

She looks into Peter’s eyes, checking if he’s okay with it. He gives her a hopeful look, and squeezes her hand. He was waiting for her then, just as he was before. And like when she was 12, she looks into his wide pupils and the sparks of color around them. Lara Jean couldn’t tell with precise certainly what their future would be, but she could hope, and do her best to make the best possible future outcome occur. And really, she didn’t want to be anywhere else except this present moment.

So she says, “Yes, yes we are.”

And then she kisses him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Now that they're dating, Peter begins posting IG photos of Lara Jean’s hairstyles, and it’s the most adorb thing ever.)


	8. Playlist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs I listened to as I wrote this.

  1. [I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eH3giaIzONA)) / Whitney Houston

  2. [Got To Be Real](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tlCC1XojRzM) / Cheryl Lynn

  3. [Wonder](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_kASjW_aPbQ) / Emeli Sandé ft. Naughty Boy

  4. [Luv My Life](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f2A0ZKFKrig) / Nitty Scott

  5. [Abracadabra](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3HE_KGh9jEs) / Jessie J

  6. [Lions, Tigers, & Bears](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OT1Sse7soO4) / Jazmine Sullivan

  7. [I’m Coming Out](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zbYcte4ZEgQ) / Diana Ross

  8. [I Want You Back](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XwylSVilvq8) / Janelle Monáe

  9. [Rather Be](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6WzntduGzzk) / Clean Bandit ft. Jess Glynne

  10. [Something Good](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ryUe8-a9Cag) / Estelle

  11. [Inner Smile](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nK_SmBJIBMg) / Texas




    Bonus Track: [Haven’t You Noticed (I’m a Star)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ucp80GW0Wvk) / Olivia Olson


End file.
